


And Form the Bruises

by sheesusnat



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-02
Updated: 2012-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-30 12:07:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheesusnat/pseuds/sheesusnat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jordan Eberle has a secret. Jordan Eberle is in love with his best friend. Jordan Eberle is really, really stupid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Form the Bruises

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Set during the 2012 All Star Game weekend in Ottawa. Title taken from "Tiny Vessels" by Death Cab for Cutie.
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, purely for entertainment purposes; I am getting no monetary gain from this. I am making no implications about the real people whose personas are borrowed for this work, nor am I affiliated with them or their teams, or the National Hockey League in any way.

Jordan doesn't really know her name. Hell, at this point, Jordan's drunk enough that he's not sure he remembers his _own_ name. He knows that he met her at Zak's Diner, he bought her a drink, she rubbed her hand on his chest, he touched her thigh. She smells nice.

He thinks her eyes are brown, but he doesn't know for sure. Her hair and skin are dark, her body slim and only slightly curvy. Small tits, small hips. Shorter than Ebs himself. Completely the opposite of everything he wants right now.

She's hot, though. Hot and wet and willing. Three-thousand-something-odd miles away from Edmonton, from Taylor, and he just wants to fuck _someone_. Someone, anyone, just something to take the edge off of the need.

It's not as if Jordan doesn't realize what an awful, horrible, _stupid_ idea it is, this ridiculous love/lust/whatever it is that he has for Taylor. No, that part he's well aware of. Stopping it, however, is something that he hasn't yet figured out, no matter how hard he's tried.

Falling in desperate, unrequited love with your best friend is always bad news. When the aforementioned best friend is also your roommate, teammate, oh and he just happens to be your co-star in the rebuilding of the Edmonton Oilers, well...Jordan realizes just how awful, horrible and _stupid_ it is.

And so tonight it's this girl, whose name he won't remember, to try to ease the unending sexual tension. Like other girls, other nights in Edmonton, or picked up at some club on the road, anytime he just doesn't think he can take it anymore. It's almost as stupid as being in love with Hallsy, but not quite.

He wants to say it's just a passing thing, that it's only every once in a while that he feels like this, so worked up that he wants to crawl out of his skin. But it isn't rare. It's every night. Every day. He wakes up at home and Taylor's there, and Taylor's at the rink, and Taylor's in the showers after games. Some nights it's all he can do to get home, behind the safety of the locked door of his bedroom, where he can shut his eyes and stroke his dick and work through all the fantasies of what he wants from that perfect fucking mouth.

Sometimes that's enough, jerking his cock while biting his lip to keep from moaning his fucking best friend's name. But not always. Not tonight. Tonight he needed a warm body beneath him. He needed someone to scratch her nails down his back, wrap her legs around his waist, bite an angry bruise into his throat. He needs to feel something that isn't this back-breaking agony of wanting someone he'll never have. Of wanting someone so desperately, but not being able to even tell them. Of wanting someone he can't ever tell _anyone_ about.

And sometimes Jordan thinks that's what makes this so fucking terrible. He can't tell anyone. Not his parents or his siblings, not his friends or his teammates. It's just there, deep down, eating away at everything it touches. When Whit or Gags or someone asks him if there's something wrong...of fucking course there's something wrong, but he can't tell them. He can't tell anyone. So he just pushes it down again, deeper and deeper, until he feels like he's going to choke on it.

Eventually he'll snap, he knows that. He can't just keep this secret forever, and he's only waiting for the time to come when he can't fight it back any longer, when he can't swallow it down and pretend it doesn't exist. Someday it's going to happen, he's going to scream at Taylor that of fucking course he loves him, of fucking course he wants him. He always fucking _has_. He's going to tell Taylor, and absolutely everyone else who will listen, because you can only stamp down feelings like this for so long. He just has no idea what the fuck he'll do when it all does come tumbling out.

But tonight, tonight he's got someone. And it's not quite right, not what he wants--but he can close his eyes. He can pretend. He can pretend it's Taylor that's fucking hot, slick around his cock, he can pretend those are Taylor's teeth on his neck, Taylor's nails down his back. Pretend it's Taylor beneath him, begging for Jordan to fuck him harder, fuck him faster.

And so he does. His hips piston in, out, rough enough that he knows she'll hurt the next day. But she doesn't care, keeps pleading and moaning for more, and so he keeps moving, as fast and hard as he can, because he needs this. Needs it blinding and burning hot around him, leaving his thighs stinging and his arms shaking from the force. When her nails claw lines down his back that he's sure will show even in Edmonton, scratches he's sure Taylor's going to see, he thrusts deep, shoving her body up along the mattress as he comes, hips jerking erratically.

He isn't sure when she leaves, he pretty much blanked on everything after he came. He wakes up with alone with a hangover, a whole lot of guilt, and his phone buzzing loudly on the bedside table.

_u dog, was she ne good?_

The message is from Taylor, attached to a picture of Jordan with a girl--presumably the one who slipped out of his hotel room in the wee hours of the morning--draped over him in some nondescript club. Taylor honestly has no idea just how much Jordan hates himself at this moment. Never would Taylor guess that the girl from last night was just a stand-in, just a distraction. Taylor doesn't know, and he can't ever find out.

It was one just one night, and it meant nothing, and all of the same fucking problems are still here in the morning.

Jordan realizes how stupid it is.


End file.
